A series by November

Chapter 25: Hunger for Your Touch

"Oh my love,
My darling,
I‘ve hungered for your touch..."
--The Everly Brothers <

The grand foyer of Xavier’s mansion was decorated with swaths of white fabric and sweet-smelling flowers. A runner of white fabric came down the curving staircase and went up the aisle. Guests sat in chairs on either side. Xavier waited at the altar. Scott stood next to him.

Maggie appeared at the top of the stairs and for a second teetered there nervously before starting down. She wore a white dress and white flowers in her hair. She carried a basket filled with red flower petals. Roses, tulips, mums. She scattered them as she walked, smiling shyly.

Logan was sitting on the right, halfway up. His sensitive hearing picked up the rustle of satin at the top of the stairs and he felt a fissure of excitement run through him. He watched for Rogue.

Maggie reached the bottom of the stairs, and Storm and Havoc stepped forward. Stormy was regal in her red dress with red flowers in her hair.

Oleander and Hank came down the stairs next. Her hair was almost as light as Storm’s, and Hank was wearing a huge fitted tuxedo. He looked quite dapper. Logan shifted in his chair.

Rogue and Warren were next. Warren was wearing the same tuxedo, strategically altered so that his wings were fanned out behind him, as perfectly pure and white as a bridal gown.

Logan turned almost all the way around in his chair, peripherally aware that his mouth was wide open. Marie was so beautiful. Her dress clung to her like a glove. The embroidery on the red satin bodice shimmered in the light. Her cheeks were pink and she had roses and red daisies in her hair which was pulled up, with a few white and brown pieces curling down.

She felt Logan’s eyes on her but didn’t look for him. When the crowd saw Warren’s wings, some of them oohed and aahed, but most everyone had seen them before.

Finally, Jubilee and Bobby descended. Jubilee looked very strange in red. The color flattered her, but no one had ever seen her wear it before.

The four couples split at the altar. The music was again rising and swelling and Jean stepped forward. She floated down the stairs on a cloud of white satin, a short veil over her red hair. Tears leaked from under Scott’s glasses. Rogue smiled sweetly at her friend. Xavier’s eyes glistened with tears of love and pride.

Rogue looked out at the audience. Almost every alumnus of Xavier’s was in attendance. She saw Art and smiled.

Logan was staring with wanting eyes. Not at Jean, who was breathtakingly beautiful in her bridal white, but at Rogue. Everyone else was turned to the back as Jean came down the aisle, but Logan was facing forward, to Rogue. She glanced away.

Xavier began to speak about love, his mellifluous voice filling the great entrance. Rogue felt a tightness in her heart and wondered if her time would ever come, if she would ever be wed under Xavier’s loving eye.

Kitty should have been here with them, wearing red.

Rogue glanced at Carter. He looked beautiful in his dark suit. He screwed up his face at her and she tried not to laugh. Her lips pursed for a second and then her smile went back to normal.

She looked at Maggie, who was squirming next to Essie on her chair. She smiled at the girl. Maggie smiled back.

Rogue fingered the satin ribbon that held her bouquet together and watched as Scott and Jean were married. They were an unofficial institution, every bit as monolithic and huge as the mansion. They were the standard of what everyone wanted. Rogue hoped for their sake that Jean and Scott would flourish would live up to their legend. She was certain they would be very happy.

Xavier was now addressing Jean. "Do you, Jean Grey, take this man to be your husband?"

"I do," Jeannie’s eyes were shining wetly, and her love was shining just as strong. Rogue blinked back tears.

"Do you, Scott Summers, take Jean to be your wife?"

"Hell yes!" Everyone laughed. Rogue glanced at Logan. It was one of his rare unguarded moments. He looked so beautiful when he laughed, like a little boy, as if he had never known a day of torture or unhappiness in his life.

"By the power vested in me, I declare you man and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Rogue looked away from Logan.

Scott dipped Jean down low and kissed her with breathless passion. Everyone laughed again, and clapped. The music of the recessional began, and the couple walked back down the aisle. White and red flower petals were falling from the rotunda, seeming to appear out of nowhere. Rogue blinked away a white rose petal, took Warren’s arm, and followed them out.

The reception was breathtaking. The grand ballroom was decorated with a thousand candles, red flowers everywhere. Jean and Scott made their entrance as husband and wife, and danced to "Unchained Melody."

Rogue took her place on the dance floor with Warren. He kept his wings tightly furled so as not to block the angle of the cameras. He told Rogue that she looked lovely and she smiled. Warren was a beautiful man, golden and angelic even without considering his wings.

"What’s your real name, Rogue?"

"Marie."

"That’s a lovely name. Lovely Marie."

"I prefer Rogue."

"Rogue it is, then. Do you have a boyfriend, Rogue?"

"Um - it’s complicated." How to explain that there was one man, younger than her, who occasionally occupied her bed, and that there was another man twice or even thrice her age who occupied her heart?

"That’s a shame. I would love to ask you out."

She smiled sweetly. "I would love to be asked out, if circumstances were different."

"Well then I’ll just have to hope that your circumstances become uncomplicated." Rogue laughed gaily as he spun her. She couldn’t believe that Warren Worthington the Third, this winged billionaire angel, was asking her out. Or that she was declining. She liked him a lot, and liked the grace with which he handled the situation. He didn’t make her feel uncomfortable at all.

"Jeannie looks beautiful, doesn’t she?"

"Absolutely. And I’ve never seen such a beautiful collection of bridesmaids."

They were all beautiful. Three out of four were ass-kicking X-Women. Her honey-brunette softness, Oleander’s ethereal lightness, Jubilee’s exotic Asian features, and Storm’s cocoa skin and cloudlike soft hair. All with bodies to die for, all in stunning red satin.

"We are, aren’t we?" Marie joked.

"Absolutely. And a lovely little flower girl too."

"That’s my baby girl."

"Oh, is she your daughter?"

"I adopted her. We found her abandoned on a mission."

"That’s horrible! Did you find the parents?"

"I don’t want to. I applied for adoption, they didn’t contest it, the judge granted it, end of story."

"Good for you."

"Thanks. So what about you, Warren? Do you have a girlfriend?"

"I have several, I’m afraid."

"Well, at least you’re honest." Rogue laughed.

She felt Logan’s eyes on her. As she turned she looked for him and sure enough he was there, sitting next to Xavier, watching her. He did not look happy. She gave him a small but sweet smile and turned away.

Later, she was standing in the doorway, watching everyone dance. He approached her. "Hi Marie."

"Hey Logan. You look nice."

Actually, he looked too hot for words, with a black suit and green silk shirt.

"Thank you. They look happy, huh?"

"Yeah," she glanced at where Jean and Scott were kissing. She smiled, so happy for them.

"So if I tell you you’re beautiful, you won’t run off on me again, will you?"

She spun to look at him, mouth open like an idiot, whimpering inside, no idea what to say.

Finally, she said "No. Well, if I do it won’t be because of that, it would because you’d done something to piss me off." She offset the comment with a playful smile, so as not to offend him. She would give him this chance.

"So does that mean you’ll dance with me?" His voice was husky, a bit deep, eyes directly on hers, and she breathed and tried to stop time for a second so she could walk and talk like a normal human, not like the blubbering mess of molten blathering idiocy she felt like inside.

"I suppose so." She joked, and he offered his hand. She took it, and yet again walked to the dance floor.

This time it was like holding a different woman. He wasn’t sure if it was because she’d come to trust him or because of the two glasses of champagne she’d already had, but she was more relaxed. Her face was like a face, not a mask.

"So, you owe me a story about a one-eyed Eskimo."

"Oh, yeah, that. Well, I was in this town called Seward. And the day I got there they had this street-fair type thing. This woman was sitting in a booth, swearing like a sailor, drinking moonshine, and sewing the most amazing things - purses and scarves and I decided that I would buy you something before I even saw the gloves."

"I really love them, by the way. I keep waiting for a formal occasion to wear them to."

"Why didn’t you wear ‘em tonight?"

"it’s an unwritten rule; bridesmaids have to match."

"Oh."

"So what else did you do out there for five years?"

"Well, first I went to this place called Alkali Lake where Charles told me I might find something. It was this military installation but it was gutted. But the architecture of the place kept ... I don’t know, it was familiar to me. So I did a lot of drawing. I started remembering things, just bits and pieces, nothing major.

"So, I stayed at Alkali for almost six months, squatting there and just trying to put things together. I did a lot of writing. Then one day the memories weren’t getting any clearer and I realized that there was no point in me staying there. So I went west. I saw Montana, Wyoming. I worked on a horse ranch for a while. Spent some time in Alaska, down to Texas. Did a lot of camping. In the summer I went south. I lived in Mexico for a year and a half. Then Morocco. Marrakech, Tunisia, India, the Ivory Coast."

"I’m jealous," she said. "I’d love to see those places."

"So why don’t you?"

"I’m a poor college student. Single mother. Broke. Someday, though, I wanna travel on a regular basis."

"Where do you wanna go first?"

"Greek isles, or Italy. Florence, to see the art."

"You’re into art?"

"Yeah."

He didn’t say anything. He wondered for the umpteenth time what she would think of his paintings.

The song ended and it was time for Scott and Jean to cut their wedding cake. "Thanks," he smiled at her warmly. She smiled back, a ghost of a smile on her beautiful face. She felt butterflies leap and sing inside her.

Logan didn’t dance with anyone else that night. She pondered this during the last dance, as she swayed in Pyro’s arms. They were dancing close and two more glasses of champagne had made her tipsy. She felt the warmth of his body and was suddenly filled with want, for no one in particular, but with desire to be touched.

She looked up and saw Logan standing in the doorway talking to Hank. The expression on her face made adrenaline flow through her when his eyes met hers. He was not happy. Everything in his soul was written in his eyes, his desire, his jealousy, his hurt.

"I’ve gotta go to the bathroom. Sorry." she mumbled to John, and left him standing as she walked away.